


Into the Mist.

by dragonism



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Death, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, I’m so so so so sorry, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pain, Physical Pain, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonism/pseuds/dragonism
Summary: The Mage’s armies arrive. The feud between the Trost and Dengdamor families is in its height.Two star crossed lovers meet their fate.





	Into the Mist.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanna apologise in advance to my wonderful pals the Toads. I love you guys even though you’ll probably hate me after this.

The land of Inglenook had gained a new name. No Mans land. It’s once green fields a sea of red and pink; a litter of the fallen from families and allies alike; alight with fire and smoke even in the daylight.

On one side of the field, an injured prince clutched at his side as warmth poured between his fingers, a red stain growing over his white shirt. He uses his sword to balance. Pushing himself up as he tries to call out, his only thought on one person, “Silas!”

The act alone leads to a fit of coughs, stumbling forward until he is back on his knees in the wet grass, clawing desperately at his throat.

“Silas, my love!” Still, the prince endures, lurching forward with a staggering effort as he evaded the bodies of the people he once knew and even loved. His sword pressed into the dirt as he used it as a walking stick. A crutch to help him through the smoke as he searched tirelessly for the man.

He was growing weak with every passing moment. His skin drained of any tone as all colour poured from his side. By now his hand was soaked, his shirt sticking painfully to the wound. He knew these were his last moments but even throughout he cared not for himself but for his love. The only person beside his sister that would ever mean anything more to him than merely a title. A character in a passing narrative.

And then he saw him.

There across the field, was another prince. His cheeks wet with tears and stained with blood as he sobbed against his hand. At his feet the body of his friend. Behind him the body of another. The battle was far from over but by now his life felt like it was. His once tan skin was pale in comparison, his eyes rimmed with red and his shirt slashed and cut.

He was stood, but hunched as figures ran in front of him. An offence move the Dengdamor’s had decidedly taken when the fight simply wasn’t enough. It was frankly a miracle Panto had even been able to see the man from such a distance, but by now the pair could spot each other even in a crowd of look a-likes. Which is exactly what Silas did.

In hearing his name called again, his hand sprang to his side for his sword, anticipating more gunfire or other monstrous attacks from the Trosts, but instead he caught sight of a pink haired man running toward him. Not just any pink haired man, the love of his life, injured and stumbling but breaking into his best ‘sprint’ as he locked on to his partner.

And so Silas ran to meet him.

“My love!” Not as injured as his love, dropping his sword was enough to relieve the weight on his wounds as he broke into a jog, and then a sprint, and then found himself almost colliding with Panto as they met in the very middle of the field. “Panto! Panto you’re injured! My love what happened?!”

“One of the Kellum knights, he swung for a Trost and I managed to block the blow-“ He broke into another series of coughs, leaning despairingly against Silas’ shoulder, “Block the blow before it could kill the woman, however I was injured by the other side of his open blade in the process. It’s too deep my love.”

“It’s never too deep! One of the Witchakookoo, anybody, they can help!” Silas’ hands wrapped around Panto, drawing him close and keeping him stable, “We can find somebody to help!”

“It’s too late. The only Witchakookoo ever known to be able to revive somebody as far gone as myself was Wakti. My love I’m sorry.”

“Panto, I won’t let this happen, not to you. Not now.” The Dengdamor’s eyes stung with hot tears as he pressed his nose against Panto’s cheek, pressing a kiss there. And then another, before resting his forehead against his partner’s temple in surrender. “I’m too weak. I cannot carry you back. And I cannot find Wygar.”

“You’re injured yourself?”

“A bullet wound. My shoulder.”

“No. No it wasn’t one of my fathers men?” Panto pleaded, his eyes growing wide as he pushed himself so that he could look Silas in the eye, “It was. Dear god, Silas I’m so sorry. I’m- I should have been there! I should have stopped my father from even doing this!”

“It’s not your fault my darling. You shouldn’t apologise for your father’s wrongdoings.”

“But I should apologise for my own, I could have saved you. I could have been there.”

Silas merely gave a weak chuckle, a gasping breath against his body’s best efforts to quiet him, “You speak as though I’m already dead.”

And as though the universe heard him joke, his knees gave way, buckling under his weight as his eyelids drooped and he gave a dopey half smile-half grimace. Panto caught him as best he could, pulling the shorter man to him as he wrapped an arm around his waist, and Silas gripped at Panto’s shoulders.

Enemies drew closer around the pair, curious in all the wrong ways as to what was going on. Though none intervened, they fought their own battles and knew with personal glee that the royalty behind them were long since beyond saving anyway.

The downfall of the leaders of Inglenook.

Panto breathed, giving a laugh himself against the rough edge to his voice, “Now now, my sweet, falling for me again are we?”

“I never stopped.”

And then their lips met. Messily, with all their effort pushed into the show of affection but it was still to little, their noses touched and their lips barely brushed but it was enough for them. It was enough for their final moments.

It was desperate and needy and everything they’d ever wanted in one dying breath.

Or maybe not one dying breath.

“I have one request, my love, for what comes next?” Silas’ hands dropped to Panto’s chest and he tapped a few times with his fingers in his out-of-reality state.

Panto, giving a weak and barely even visible smile, reached his blood stained fingers from his wound to wrap around Silas’ own hand, interlacing the warmth of their touch for what would be a final time. “What may that be?”

“In the after life?” The shorter of the pair paused, losing his way for a moment in the haze around him.

“Yes?” Panto began to see the mist too. Thick and white. The lights around the pair of them growing brighter and brighter as their bodies shut down.

Silas nodded, forming an ‘o’ on his lips before he gathered his words again, eyes closing as his body grew heavy and he began to fall forward, “Find me. I want you to find me. W-wherever we are, whomever w-we are, I’ll still love you. Always y-you. F-find me, my love.”

Silence fell between them for just a short beat. Silas’ figure slumped in Panto’s arms, his breathing had grown slower with every word until at last it ceased. Halted. A mere wheeze every now and then the only sign his hear still beat, as slow as it were. And Panto was beginning to slow too. Their hearts beating in sync. A rhythmic thud in both their ears.

Silas wouldn’t hear the words. They’d be uttered on a final gasp. A final breath of warmth into the cold air of death.

A final call out to his love in the mist.

“As you wish.”


End file.
